


repeat cycle

by creamyoreofillings



Series: The Flower Collection [3]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: ???? - Freeform, Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Sumb, also uhhhhhh, hanahaki, its ouma not oma my bros, mentioned surgery, multiple surgeries, my homie, one sided relationship??????, succi my bro, ur fuckin dumb succi istg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 02:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17336810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creamyoreofillings/pseuds/creamyoreofillings
Summary: Forget-me-nots - True love, FaithfulnessDaffodils - Regard, Unrequited love, RespectRose (Single Full Bloom) - I love you, I still love you





	repeat cycle

The first time around, Saihara had experienced, first-hand, that getting forgotten by your friend hurts. A lot.

 

It wasn't even on accident; it was a debated over and reluctantly chosen decision, so he was told. He could still remember how Amami had apologized and explained to him after Ouma had skipped away to pester someone else. How devastated he was to see no recognition in the supreme leader’s eyes.

 

“He had Hanahaki,” The adventurer explained after calming him down. “it was _killing_ him, Saihara, I couldn't–we couldn't–!”

 

“Who was it, then?!” Saihara seethed, panic and anger overtaking his chest. At who, the detective didn't know. “There was another way, why didn't he take it?!”

 

The adventurer looked at him with shock and disbelief. “I-I can't tell you that, Saihara.” Amami tried, looking away. “I want to, but I can't.” He looked extremely regretful. “I… I wanted Kokichi to live, but I _never_ wanted him to live this way.”

 

Saihara didn't talk to anyone for two weeks, reverting back to how he was before Hope's Peak. He wore the hat again; Kaede and Kaito couldn't get him to come out of his shell a second time.

 

Two days after the second week of his self-imposed isolation, a certain little troublemaker waltzed into his life again.

 

“Hello, Mr. Emo!” Ouma chirped, swiping his hat off his head. Saihara looked up, startled at the sudden action.

 

“A-ah, hello, um…” Saihara fumbled, torn between using his name or not.

 

Ouma just snickered. “You can say my name, since you know it already!” He leaned back, hands behind his head. “Which is _super_ weird since I don't know yours, Sir Creep!”

 

“ _S-Sir Creep_?” Saihara mumbled, flushing in embarrassment. “My name is Saihara Shuuichi, sorry.”

 

The leader hummed, pulling down the brim of the detective's hat in fake thought. Then he brightened, a wide grin on his face. “Thanks, sorry-chan! Looks like you won't have to die today!”

 

Saihara felt the tension in his body dissipate, silently thankful for familiar territory. “That’s, uh, too bad…” He says, smiling softly. “Do you, um, want to play a game, Ouma-kun?”

 

The way Ouma had lightened up that time was one of the best sights Saihara had ever seen, even if Saihara was a bit bitter about him forgetting.

 

* * *

 

The second time around, Saihara had begun to piece the mystery together. Ouma had forgotten him again, but it still hurt the detective.

 

And just like last time, Ouma was the one who approached him again, teasing and prodding him like it was natural. Saihara let himself fall into the familiar rabbit hole of being Ouma's friend, again.

 

When the supreme leader left, the smell of forget-me-nots remained.

 

* * *

 

In the third time around, Saihara finally realized why Ouma kept forgetting him. The weight of the truth crushed him more than the sadness he felt each time Ouma forgot.

 

When Saihara had told the adventurer, Amami looked at him sadly and said nothing. Saihara cursed himself that he didn't realize sooner.

 

* * *

 

For about six cycles of Ouma forgetting and befriending Saihara, it became routine for the detective to bump into the small supreme leader in the dorm hallway. It became routine to befriend him, watching him _fall in love_ with him, watching his friend’s deteriorating health, before it restarts into another cycle; rinse and repeat.

 

It made Saihara numb; his smiles feel plasticky and fake, and his responses sound automated. Ouma had joked in the 5th cycle that he sounded more like a robot than Kiibo. After that though, Saihara tried to be more genuine with him. It didnt matter, since Ouma had disappeared again.

 

Just like before, it smelt of forget-me-nots as he left.

 

* * *

 

In the 7th time Akamatsu pulled him aside from the dorm hallway, before Ouma skipped down to his room like clockwork. Well, the _only_ thing that stayed same, since Ouma was still as unpredictable as the first time he'd met him. Slightly panicked and mad, Saihara glared at her lightly before faltered under her concerned gaze.

 

“Saihara-kun, this is getting out of hand.” She says, softly. “You're getting a bit…” She falters. “Well, _obsessive_.”

 

The teen detective tensed. “I-I’m not..!” He argues, defensive. “It’s just…” He trails off and Akamatsu looked at him, waiting for his response. He takes a steadying breath.

 

“It's just _unfair_ , Akamatsu.” Saihara looks at the floor, feeling childish. “It's not fair that he just decides to keep forgetting me.”

 

“Maybe what you're putting him through isn't fair, either.”

 

He whips his head up, startled and indignant. His expression probably said what he was feeling, because Akamatsu put her hands up in a placating position.

 

“I'm just saying, Saihara-kun!” She starts, eyes wide. She'd never seen Saihara this… _angry_ . “Each time Ouma-kun gets the surgery and forgets you, you always end up befriending him, and he _always_ falls for you.”

 

Guilt and embarrassment burns in Saihara's chest and face. “I-it's not like I actively seek out for him—” He tries to defend, squirming a bit as he pulls down his hat.

 

“The first two times, yeah you weren't expecting it, but Rantarou told me you figured it out the third time.” Saihara flinched, pulling his hat down further in shame. He could feel Akamatsu’s gaze burn into him.

 

“I–” He starts, feeling a pit open up inside him. It was suffocating.

 

“It's cruel, Saihara-kun.” She continues, voice soft. “Not only to Ouma-kun, but to you as well.” She sounded so sad and it made the pit open wider.

 

He wheezed out an apology, speeding into his room. He barely missed a certain leader and his indignant squawk, and a certain pianist's call, before slamming the door shut.

 

* * *

 

Amami cornered him in their empty classroom during the 10th time, looking furious.

 

“ _Saihara._ ” He seethed. “ _Stop._ ” Saihara just looked down, the brim of his hat covering his eyes.

 

The adventurer bared his teeth, rage bubbling in his body. “This has gone too far, Saihara!” He shouts, almost barking out the detective's name. “Do you realize what you're _doing_ ?! _What you're putting him through_?!”

 

Saihara still said nothing, fuelling Amami’s anger. He growls, yanking out a two small glass containers out of his bag. He slams it down on the detective's desk with a bang, delighting in the way he flinched.

 

“These,” Amami starts, seeing Saihara lift his head, his eyes still obscured by his hat. “are _Kokichi’s flowers_ .” He could see Saihara tense. “Flowers that he removed from his _fucking lungs_.”

 

The glass containers held two bouquets of forget-me-nots and daffodils, surrounding a single full bloom rose. While the first one seemed lively and bright; forever preserved, the second seemed to be damaged and had splotches of blood on the petals and leaves. The stems looked brown and weak, looking like it could collapse any second.

 

Saihara stayed silent, observing the two conainters. Amami stared at him, hands planted on either sides of Saihara's desk.

 

Before Saihara could make a sound, Amami explained. “These flowers are both from his first and recent surgery.” His arms shook with rage. “Do you know how far away these two are?” He sneers. He jabs a finger to the damaged bouquet, forever immortalized in glass.

 

“ _This,_ ” His hand shakes. “is from his 9th surgery. _9th, Saihara!_ ” The adventurer yells, rage pouring out of his voice.

 

Saihara sunk further into his seat, hands shakily coming up to hide his face. His shoulders hunched up, his body curling with each word Amami threw at him.

 

“You're basically _killing him_ !” His voice started to wobble, but he pushed on. Amami needed to knock some fucking _sense_ into him. “Do you even _know_ how it fucking _feels_ to see your best friend, your _brother_ , repeatedly dying because of someone _who doesn't love him back?!_ ”

 

He continues his attack, watching as Saihara hunches over himself, shaking. “Because it _hurts_ ! It hurts _so much_ because I couldn't do a damn _thing_ to help him!” His throat felt thick with so many emotions; fury, grief, sadness, guilt. But he pushed on. “I keep watching him get hurt over and over again, and I _can't stand it!_ ”

 

The detective started to mumble during Amami's tirade, slowly increasing into audible mutters of _'im sorry’_. Amami laughed sharply, a hollow and bitter thing that was fully indignant.

 

“ _Sorry_ ? That's all you're gonna _say_?”

 

Saihara kept muttering, slowly hyperventilating from _everything_. His chest hurts, his lungs felt heavy with not enough air, his head dizzy, and his throat felt so so thick. He chokes on his words, stumbling on the repeating syllables. Amami stares at him silently, breathing heavily with tears running down his face. His chest shudders with a steadying breath, willing himself to look away.

 

“You're cruel, Saihara.” Amami mutters, just loud enough for the detective to catch. “I never expected this from _you_ , of all people.” He shakes his head, wiping his face.

 

He takes one of the glass containers– the one still so bright and deceptively beautiful– and tucks it into his bag. The green-haired teen left the other one on Saihara's desk to ruminate on; to remind him what's at stake.

 

“The surgery won't help forever, y’know.” Amami said, his voice no longer holding anger but so _so much_ sadness. “Because of the continuous surgery,” Saihara's breath hitches, flinching so badly as if he was burned. “and not enough recovery time, his lungs will either fail or start falling apart from the seams.”

 

Amami watches the detective, watches his body shake with sobs and apologies. He looks away as he started to collapse onto the desk, the top of his head barely bumping the small container.

 

“Please,” He starts, voice still thick. “just _please_ , either end his suffering and leave him alone, or _fall in love with him_.” Amami hikes his bag higher onto his shoulder and leaves the room. Saihara's sobs and butchered apologies were the only sound left in the classroom.

 

The room still faintly smelled of forget-me-nots.

**Author's Note:**

> aka the story where ouma falls in love too fast and hard off screen
> 
> yo i love my Rat Child™ but sometimes u gotta just,,,,, suffer, yknow


End file.
